


Nightmares (I'm here)

by privateerwrites



Series: Musketeer March 2021 [16]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Couch Cuddles, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic, dad-ish richelieu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 19:47:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30094194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/privateerwrites/pseuds/privateerwrites
Summary: Musketeer March Day 16- Alt Prompt 7, Cardinal RichelieuRichelieu takes care of Kid!Milady and Kid!Jussac while also taking care of himself and he is a Good Child-Watcher.
Relationships: Armand Jean du Plessis de Richelieu & Milady Clarick de Winter, Jussac (Trois Mousquetaires) & Armand Jean du Plessis de Richelieu
Series: Musketeer March 2021 [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2188632
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Nightmares (I'm here)

**Author's Note:**

> This is just kidfic fluff with kid!Milady and kid!Jussac. yes, the man in the park is treville. yes, he and richelieu end up falling in love.

"ATHOS! No, you cannot- no, Athos, come here- Athos-"  
  
Richelieu smirks across the park at the man who comes every morning with his four dogs and one child and, without fail, loses control of at least one of them every day. He turns back to the task in his lap, the essays he still needs to finish grading, and sighs.  
  
Just as the sunlight is really beginning to brighten the sky, turning the clouds from pink-tinged streaks on a dark background to a light grayish muddle, he finishes grading the last of his papers and stands, casting his gaze around for Milady and Jussac, who are staying with him for the week while their mother is otherwise occupied.  
  
"Children!" he calls loudly. He almost immediately comes to regret the volume he used, feeling the rather familiar catch in the back of his throat, and then he is suddenly bent nearly double, pressing his lips together hard to keep the cough back, holding it in so the barking harshness of it doesn't escape into the air, so that he isn’t a noticeable disturbance. He shakes forward slightly with the force of it, but it mostly stays muted.  
  
The man with the dogs has seen him, but just then Milady and Jussac come running to him, and he gathers them up next to his sides, feeling rather like a mother hen, and leaves with them following.  
  
When they get home, he directs them to their various duties armed with snacks, Milady (with goldfish and apple juice) to her math homework and Jussac (with Richelieu's improvised fruit roll ups- he'd refused to buy that sugary shit, and Jussac, if left to his own devices, chooses Richelieu's anyway) to his required reading. Richelieu heads to his desk as they settle in, reminding them that they can ask him for help if they need it, putting on his most paternal expression, not that it much matters anyway, because they're both so absorbed in their work that they barely even make a noise of affirmation towards him.  
  
He settles in, slowly coming to terms with the fact that he won't get everything he wants to done today as he works through the agenda he's set. It's a bad day, and he quietly reminds himself that that's alright, that he doesn't need to be at 100% all the time, that he can take a break. That his worth is not defined by his work. That last one is still something he's working on (to be honest, they're all something he's working on), but he takes a deep breath and repeats them to himself anyway.  
  
The alarm on his phone goes off at 9:30, a reminder to get up, stretch, and check on the children. They're sitting quietly, still working, though Jussac has moved onto his Social Studies work and Milady is writing a short story for her English class. He glances over their shoulders surreptitiously, making sure that the work is really their assigned work and not something else that they've concocted to work on. Reassured that it is, in fact, their schoolwork and not some devious plan to take over the world (or just the country), he heads to the kitchen and makes them ants on a log, carefully smearing the proper ratio of peanut butter to celery so that they aren't too hard to eat. He brings them a glass of milk as well, to keep up their calcium intake. Their mom is particularly concerned about that, after Milady fractured her wrist last year walking into a door, and he'd promised to take care of them properly, so increased calcium intake is important.  
  
He takes a seat at his desk and slogs through his emails, deleting the unnecessary spam from the communications office and replying, slowly, to the barrage of emails from Louis about the things he doesn't understand in the paperwork. Richelieu is starting to miss the days where he had twice as much work, before Louis was really in charge. That went faster, at least.  
  
There are hungry children knocking at his door before his lunch alarm at 12:45 goes off, and he gets up to make them grilled cheese and tomato soup. He has to admit, having them around is forcing him into a better schedule than that which he would normally uphold. They eat together, sitting at his table, and it feels distantly like what home does in the storybooks, like what he's been told all his life home should feel like. It's kind of nice, in a very domestic way.  
  
He drives them to soccer practice after lunch, and then he is alone in his office. The house feels oddly empty, like something is missing that had been filling it and now that it's gone, it feels as though something has gone wrong.  
  
He works until his phone buzzes, and when he stands, his knees creak uncomfortably and he frowns. Growing old is not as glamorous as it is made out to be, he reflects. The alarm buzzes insistently, and he turns it off and heads for the door, grabbing his keys and cape, swinging the latter over his shoulder with a practiced ease.  
  
The children vibrate with excitement leftover from practice in the car on the way home, and he sends them off to shower before dinner. They eat grilled chicken breasts and salad, and Richelieu is, even after five days with them, still a little astounded at the amount that fits in their stomachs. Dessert is fruit, pears and oranges sliced up and altered to the preferences of the kids- membranes removed from orange slices for Jussac and pears peeled for Milady.  
  
Bedtime is startling easy, though Richelieu strongly suspects that has more to do with soccer practice than it does with his increasing skill with putting children to sleep. He reads them a picture book- he knows that they're a little old for that, but it's what he could get on short notice that wasn't religious theory or adult novellas- and sends them to sleep with a gentle reminder that should they require anything, he will be either in his office or in his room, and that they should not hesitate to bother him. They nod sleepily and he smiles at them and says goodnight to each, turning out the light as he exits.  
  
When he returns to his office, he settles in with an exciting treatise on Augustine from the 17th century that has only become available in the last month, and he sets his laptop diagonal to his body so that he can more easily take notes there, when he wishes.  
  
When next he looks up, it is to a small child in the doorway of his office, clutching a small stuffed animal in his hand, looking watery-eyed and exhausted. Armand glances up at the clock. 2:14. He wonders when it got so late, and then pushes that thought to the back of his head, more concerned for the child in front of him.  
  
He comes out from behind his desk and kneels next to Jussac, resting one of his hands on one of Jussac's shoulders. He tilts his head questioningly, and then Jussac tumbles forward and is in his arms, sobbing. Armand moves his hand up and down the boy's back in soothing motions, enveloping him in a hug that presses his whole body against Armand's.  
  
"Shhhh, shhh, I've got you," he murmurs over and over and over. Jussac cries for a long time, and when he is done, Armand picks him up gently and carries him out to the sofa, setting him down gently and placing his favorite blanket over his little lap, propping his bunny in his arms.  
  
Armand grabs a mug and pours in the milk, honey, and cinnamon and places it in the microwave for just long enough to heat the milk and dissolve the honey. He brings the mug out to Jussac after testing that it's cool enough, and gathers the child in his lap carefully, handing over the mug.  
  
He runs his fingers through the boy's hair and begins to sing softly, a tune he hasn't sung in absolutely years, something he knew he hadn't forgotten, but was simply unsure he could muster easily to the front of his brain.  
  
"If I were a blackbird, the wind beneath my wing, I would follow the vessel my true love sails in," he starts, and just like that, the song falls into place, rising and falling with in his voice, as though he had last sung it only a day ago instead of years ago.  
  
By the time he finishes the song, the milk is gone and Jussac is asleep in his lap. Carefully, he picks up the kid in his arms and carries him back to his bed, tucks him in gently.  
  
He exits after a long moment, making sure that Jussac stays settled before closing the door behind him. He shuts down his office, powering down the computer and turning off all the lights.  
  
Armand brushes his teeth quickly, shoves a comb through his hair, and changes into a loose nightshirt and boxers. He slides under his sheets, flicks off the light, and pulls the covers up, falling asleep content and happy, exhausted after a long day and ready for rest and recovery.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos greatly appreciated!
> 
> Also on tumblr as privateerstudies!


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